


The Star

by besselfcn



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Boys Bonding, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 19:46:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13597062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/besselfcn/pseuds/besselfcn
Summary: He's a curious one, that Caleb Widogast.Curious in the sense that he's hard to read and curious in the sense that he sticks his nose where it certainly doesn't belong. In that Molly would like very much to know where he comes from and what he's doing running around with a goblin girl wrapped in bandages; in that Caleb's eyes rake over Molly's scar-stippled skin both when he thinks Molly's not looking and when he must know that he is.





	The Star

He's a curious one, that Caleb Widogast.

Curious in the sense that he's hard to read and curious in the sense that he sticks his nose where it certainly doesn't belong. In that Molly would like very much to know where he comes from and what he's doing running around with a goblin girl wrapped in bandages; in that Caleb's eyes rake over Molly's scar-stippled skin both when he thinks Molly's not looking and when he must know that he is. 

Usually a well-timed counter-look, complete with brazen smile and bold wink, is enough to shy away any more glances thrown Molly's way. But Caleb Widogast, for whatever reason, doesn't seem put off by it. He blinks a few times and looks away, but there's no signs of wilting behind it. No well-earned embarrassment to be spotted. 

Molly hasn't been intrigued by another person in far too long. 

Maybe it's why he decides to answer questions, when Caleb starts asking them. Maybe he wants to know what the boy will offer up in return. Maybe he just misses Yasha.

\--------

A few weeks later they're on first watch: Molly and Caleb and that cat that isn't a cat. Caleb feeds it scraps of meat; Molly shuffles his cards, pulling one at a time whenever his palms burn for it. _Judgment. The Lovers. The Devil._

"Fuck you too," Molly scoffs, and tucks the cards into a coat pocket. 

Caleb glances over when Molly speaks. There go his eyes again. They snag at Molly's wrists, exposed now with Molly's pushed-up sleeves. 

Molly raises an eyebrow. _Go on,_ he thinks, his tongue running over the tips of his teeth, his tail flicking lazily back-and-forth. _Prove to me you're interesting._

"This is a very violent way that you cast magic," Caleb says slowly. The Common words trip gently over his tongue, but Molly grins. They sound so enticing all the same. 

"But more fun, isn't it?" 

Caleb hums softly. The cat curls up in his lap; its eyes don't pierce into Molly quite as deeply, but it still watches him like he's prey. Molly's overly tempted to try to hiss at it. 

He pulls his cards back out instead.

"I wonder only how a man gets started with this sort of thing," Caleb says, absently scratching at the cat's ears. 

Molly licks his lips. He drums his fingers on his knee. He pulls a card.

_The Hermit._

"How did you?" Molly asks, and he folds the card back into the deck.

Caleb lays his palms flat on his knees. "I had a knack for magic since I was very young," he begins. "It was not something I had taken much time to-" 

"Oh, come on now, dear," Molly purrs. "Neither of us are talking about magic, aren't we?"

It's a stab in the dark; Molly's barely seen the boy with fewer than three layers at a time, and certainly never taken a close enough look under all those layers of grime to get a sense at what he might've taken it upon himself to do. But Caleb's certainly done his own fair share of looking-and oh, Mollymauk knows hunger when he sees it. 

Caleb's locked up, though; his hands curl on his knees, and the cat pads closer to him, curls up into the crook of his arm. 

"It's alright," Molly shrugs. "Don't let anyone know anything about you you'd rather them not, that's a fine philosophy to live by."

He bares his wrists as he tucks his fingers behind his head. The scars there run around in circles, deep and jagged; too messy in some places, and too thin in others, to have been made by the quick swipe of a blade amidst a battle. 

Caleb stares for a moment more, as if daring himself to, before he breaks his gaze.

For a while, Molly listens only to the sounds of birds in the trees, to Caleb's shivering breaths, and to the thrum of his own heart in his ears. 

"I learned to make fire when I was very young," Caleb says slowly. "When I was quite irresponsible."

Molly nods. Arms, then, probably. Or thighs. He doesn't expect he'll get a glimpse anytime soon. 

"I learned to use knives when I was young," Molly says, fingertips itching with the memory. "And I'm still irresponsible, if you haven't noticed."

Caleb lets a soft chuckle escape. Good to know he's capable of humor.

"It is a good trick that you do," Caleb admits.

Molly grins. Brazen smile. Bold wink. "Which part?"

Caleb stares back. A few blinks. No embarrassment. 

Molly remembers why he dislikes intriguing people.


End file.
